There’s a time to take life seriously, and that’s the case more often than not for me, but most of the time when it comes to my boys I try hard not to do it. That way I can enjoy and laugh at all their random weirdness and goofiness along the way.
Laughing truly is the best medicine for the stress and worries that inevitably come with life. Fortunately, and it’s ironic because they are often the source of the anxiety, my kids provide many opportunities for laughter by simply being themselves.
For some reason, Carson, 5, can be prone to hitting. Hopefully, it’s a maturity thing and a passing phase, but in the meantime we have learned to be weary of him.
During a football game the other day, he ran by me and swatted my leg. I was distracted by the game and didn’t make a huge deal about it as I normally would. Before I knew it, he came running past me on the way to get a toy and threw an ice pack at me that he had fetched from the freezer.
When I asked him what I was supposed to do with it, he put it where he slapped me. He then wacked me hard on the arm and threw some ice cubes at me. He had my attention at that point.
Beckett, 6, so badly wants to watch football games with me, but his attention wanes during the commercials, replays and other stops and starts.
Therefore, what usually transpires is him in and out of the room and routinely returning with questions, the most frequent being, “who won?” Of course, the game has just started at this point.
A couple minutes later, he returns with the same question. After a few rounds of that, I just say a team name, but then he says, “why aren’t we outside then? Let’s go.”
The other night Pam and I were awoken to the sight of Beckett standing by our bed. It was 2:02 in the morning and he wanted me to come downstairs with him to show me something.
When we got to the bathroom, I knew immediately what it was because he was bleeding slightly from the mouth. He had wiggled his front tooth, which had been dangling for some time, free in his sleep.
I’m not sure I will ever forget the sight of him standing in the bathroom holding his tooth in his tightly clenched fist with blood dribbling down his chin or what he said as I walked him back to his room.
“Tell the tooth fairy to come tomorrow night, I am not going to be able to go back to sleep …” he said. He was asleep within minutes, fortunately.
I was telling jokes to the kids the other night while they ate dinner. At their age, they like potty-type jokes and I have a good supply to make 6- and 5-year-old boys giggle.
At one point, Carson started mildly choking on his food laughing so hard, and Beckett had an accident in his pants while laughing.
I learned about the latter when Beckett returned from the bathroom without his pants or underwear. When I asked where they were, he said he made a mess and threw them in the trash. When I went to check it out for myself, I agreed those old pants’ days were numbered and moved them to the outside trash.
It’s rare but there are times when I put Carson in the bath and Beckett in the shower at the same time. It can be a little stressful at times but the other night they had me rolling.
Beckett and Carson have a unique way of communicating with each other and I have to hand it to Beckett for the way he handles his non-verbal little brother. He understands his disability and gets creative when asking him questions. For example, when asking him what he would prefer to do, Beckett will hold up one hand representing one thing and another indicative of the alternative. The idea being Carson would slap whichever representing what he wants.
While showering and in the bath, that’s not possible obviously. However, for some reason, Beckett wanted to know whether Carson liked a warm bath or a cold bath, and he had to have the answer at that point. He told him if he liked a warm bath to splash water on me and if he liked a cold bath to splash water on him. He chosen warm and that meant I got soaked.
It wasn’t funny then, but later I did see the humor it.
Beckett is a lawyer in the making, as he is constantly trying to negotiate.
When we walked in Sweet Frog last weekend after a traumatizing game of miniature golf with my boys, he immediately went for a medium cup despite his mom saying to get a small. His rationale was he would just fill it up half way. We insisted on the small, which he was unable to get halfway through.
“Yeah I had a case of the hunger eyes, see,” he said, pointing to them while trying not to blink, as if that proved the point.
One of the things my kids will not forget about our recent trip to Great Wolf Lodge was the fact I got a speeding ticket on the way.
Consequently, they are constantly riding me over my speed. Beckett gives the incessant play-by-play while reading from the odometer, and reminding me I need to keep my money to buy him this or that, while Carson kicks the back of my seat while pointing at the odometer to let me know he’s watching as well.